


The Bolton Beauty

by Bae_B



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:56:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7364095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bae_B/pseuds/Bae_B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Bolton Beauty, they call her. Her hair is as dark and long as night, softer than the fine silk of the dresses those Southern women are so fond of. Her eyes are as white as snow, framed by the longest, darkest eyelashes I have ever seen. She is hauntingly beautiful, just like her brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lya I

The Bolton Beauty, they call her. Her hair is as dark and long as night, softer than the fine silk of the dresses those Southern women are so fond of. Her eyes are as white as snow, framed by the longest, darkest eyelashes I have ever seen. She is hauntingly beautiful, just like her brother.

Lord Bolton is a cruel, unusual man. He never deserved to have such lovely children. Perhaps that's why his wife is dead, why Domeric is dead, why Asha is forever mourning.

While Domeric was sent off to foster, Asha was here. Ruling alongside her father, softening the blow of his iron fist with sweet smiles and kind words. The people worship her and now that Domeric is dead, they wish to console her. I fear this shall be her downfall.

"Does he look like me, Lya?" Her white eyes sparkle with something not often seen at the Dreadfort, hope. I will lose a finger for this, I think to myself, I know it. "Yes my lady, he does." I give her as warning a look as I dare and go about tidying her chambers.

Asha does not relent, she never relents. She is as stubborn as any Northerner I know. "You've met him?!" This is the first time she's dared to ask such pointed questions about the bastard. I love this girl, I have cared for her all my life, who am I to deny her a small piece of happiness? "No, my lady. I saw him about town many moons ago."

Asha cannot help herself. Since the death of her brother, whispers of this Bolton bastard have not been far from her ears. The townspeople love Asha, they mean her no harm, they merely wish to comfort her. Oddly enough, Asha does take comfort in these whispers, and this makes me afraid for her.

She begins to speak again, and I raise a finger to stop her. "Lady Asha, your father would flay me living if he knew we spoke about this. Please, by the old gods, let this go. Your father will not allow a bastard to sully the halls of the Dreadfort, my dear. He is too proud a man."

Her face floods with shame, as red as the flayed man on her family sigil. Her emotions are so genuine and forthcoming it's hard to believe she is Lord Bolton's daughter. "Lya, I'm sorry. I would never wish to put you in danger. I'm just lonely is all." Her eyes glaze over with tears as she continues on, "We won't speak of it again, I promise you."

I smile and nod to her in agreement, but the dread coiling in my stomach cannot be ignored.


	2. Lya II

Ser One and Ser Two she calls them. The Dreadfort is a dark place, ruled by fear, and make no mistake our Leech Lord is not loved by many. I suppose this is why Lord Bolton's pride and joy is forever trailed by her two guards, sworn to protect her with their lives.

Unfortunately for Lord Bolton, Asha's guards are lovesick puppies trailing after her, not honorable Knights. They play their part in front of Lord Bolton of course, but away from his watchful eye, Asha has them wrapped around her little finger. Perhaps this is why they agreed to escort her into town without their lordship's permission.  
Perhaps this is why they will be flayed slowly upon return.


	3. Alys I

The Inn is busier than its been in a moon's turn. Drunk arse after drunk arse grabbing my tits and demanding more ale. I wouldn't mind so much if they tipped, but Northern men are tight with their coin. Greedy fucks they are.

I can feel that sick fuck's eyes on me before I turn to notice him, motioning for a cup of ale. "The Bastard of Bolton" he's called. Ramsey. The cruel japes the townsfolk make don't seem to phase him, he's either too arrogant or too stupid to understand.

Earl, the drunk arse, stumbles over to Ramsey as I'm fixing his cup. "Lord Bolton" he says, bowing deeply. It is a cruel jape, met with an even crueler smile from the bastard. A chill runs down my spine.

The things the whores say about this boy are nothing less than frightening. A sick, twisted fuck born of violence. Ravenous, short-tempered. A whore's worst nightmare. The brothel keep won't even let him come around anymore. Too bad the Inn keep doesn't have the balls to - My thoughts are interrupted by the cold wind of the door opening, I look to see who's shown up now and I swear my jaw hits the floor. Gods! Is that?!


	4. Ser One I

"My lady, we shouldn't be here." Regret starts to creep in as I scan the room. Asha has a way of convincing anyone of anything, but this is too much. Lord Bolton is sure to hear of this. Every drunk arse in this place is going to be talking of this for weeks to come.

"Oh stop it, Ser! We'll only stay a small while, I swear it! I only want to interact with the townspeople a bit!" Her white eyes sparkle ever so slightly, and as always, I relent.

She is immediately swarmed by patrons. The townspeople truly do adore Asha. She is beautiful and witty, smart and sweet. She makes up for everything her father lacks, gives her people everything he does not.

A few more minutes can't hurt.. 


	5. Asha I

That stable boy's intel is more valuable than I had first thought. Just as he had said, Ramsey is here. I greet everyone who is kind enough to approach me, make as much small talk as I can muster and try to resist the urge to dart over to Ramsey. My brother.

As the excitement dies down, the men go back to their ale and I am able to finally settle in, he approaches me. "My Lady?" His voice is kind, shy almost. He must be nervous. I turn to meet his gaze and I feel as if I have been struck. They are my eyes, father's, they were Domeric's.

"Please, sit!" A look of suspicion crosses his face, and my heart breaks. How poorly has he been treated that he is suspicious of kindness? Of his own blood?

"I'm sorry, my lady. I don't have much experience dealing with highborn ladies such as yourself." His smile is charming and wild, but his teeth are sharp, much like father's blades. 

The silence between us is awkward and heavy. Something about him feels very off. His presence sickens me. I thought it may be nerves, but my sudden urge to run cannot be ignored. Perhaps, he isn't who I'd hoped. He hasn't seized this opportunity and told me who he is. Why? A true Bolton would capitalize on this. 

Ser Two seems to sense that I am uncomfortable and announces that it is time for us to go. Relief floods my body, and I stand quickly from my seat. "Yes, of course, Ser. Off we go!" I turn to Ramsey, who still has yet to say anything of value, and smile as sweetly as ever. 

He seems shocked, surprised that I am leaving so soon. He had probably hoped for this day to come. To cross paths with me, or father. To explain his lineage, be accepted with open arms, but alas, it was not meant to be and today is not that day. 

Ramsey Snow is no brother of mine. I am the daughter of Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort, and I know a monster when I see one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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